Harbinger: A Journal of Art & Literature | 2018-2019

NATIVE TONGUE
Hali Salome Cardenas
The man on Ancient Aliens talks about the Mayans.
How they tracked the waxing and waning
of the moon, the turning of the planets – finding
sense in the stars. He says they did this while
Europeans rolled like pigs in muck – polluting
the idea of the Great White Race. So – it had to be
aliens, right?
Because when the colonizers came and brought
their missionaries and a plagiarized word
of God, they named us savage and scattered us
like those heads we kicked around for fun.
poetry 1
And when you’re ten you’re afflicted by something
you can’t name as you invite your white friend
to your abuela’s house. She had made lengua,
and she cowers before your friend
with “I hope you like it mijita.” You stare
as Cassie ate the meat – you relished
as the grease oozed down her small pale arms,
puddling in the middle of the cheap Styrofoam plate.
“This is so good,” she said. You felt wicked and cruel
but quenched when you revealed
that it was cow tongue and her placid face
turned sour. And you wonder if these small triumphs
are what those distant ancestors saw in the sky.